


in each place and forever

by coyotesuspect



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, space roadtrip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 06:36:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15575931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coyotesuspect/pseuds/coyotesuspect
Summary: The long trip back to Earth gives Keith and Shiro plenty of time to talk.Written and set between season 6 and season 7. No spoilers for season 7.





	in each place and forever

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something short and sweet after season 6, and this sort of... spiraled. I'm looking forward to Friday and season 7 making this entirely obsolete.

“How long has it been?” 

Keith starts at the sound of Shiro’s voice. It’s been at least two days since Shiro came back, and, except for those first few moments, he’s been asleep ever since. 

“He’s had quite the shock,” Allura had told Keith, as she’d helped him carry Shiro back into the Black Lion. “He’ll need time to rest.” 

It’s been hard not to worry though, even with the comforting sound of Shiro’s deep and even breathing filling the cockpit. It’s been hard to believe it’s really Shiro - _Keith’s_ Shiro - there with him. He scrambles from the pilot’s seat to kneel beside Shiro. Shiro’s are eyes half-open, unfocused, and even in the dim light, the lines of pain etched around his eyes and mouth stand out. 

“Since you’ve been asleep or…?” Keith’s voice sounds rusty even to his own ears. He hasn’t spoken much lately, just let the others’ chatter wash over the comms like a warm, familiar sea as he’s waited for Shiro to wake up. 

“Since I…” Shiro makes an odd noise, low in his throat, half-chuckle, half-choke. “Since I died.” 

“Oh. Uh.”

Keith pauses as he really realizes how much time they spent apart. He remembers the shattering pain from when Shiro first went missing, the months he spent in a daze of anger and grief, a repeat of the first time he lost Shiro. Then he thinks about the months he spent with the Blade, believing Shiro safe, but still that constant, dull ache of separation. 

But that had never been Shiro at all. Shiro’s come back from the dead twice now. Keith can’t believe he’ll be so lucky a third time, and the brilliant joy that fills him at the sight of Shiro’s face is limned even now with fear. 

“Around a year, I think,” says Keith, though truthfully he has little idea how much time passed elsewhere as he and Krolia waited.

Shiro turns his head finally, and his eyes focus on Keith. Keith watches the movement of his gaze track across his body, and he flushes. 

“You’ve grown a lot,” says Shiro. His voice has a flat, neutral quality. 

“It’s been longer for me,” says Keith. “Time passed… differently, where I was, for awhile.” 

Shiro nods, and Keith can see exhaustion and curiosity battle on his face. Exhaustion wins. Shiro closes his eyes. 

“You’ve grown up,” he says. He says it wistfully, like he’s lost something. 

Keith hesitates. “We’ve all missed a lot,” he says, because that seems like the safest option here. There’s too much to say, but none of it feels necessary compared to what Keith wants to say, which is just: You’re safe. I’ve got you. I’m not letting you go. 

Shiro opens his eyes, and his eyes slowly refocus again on Keith’s face. Keith wants to tell him to go back to sleep, but the words get caught in his throat because he wants, even more, to look at Shiro, to have Shiro look at him, and know they’re both safe.

Shiro makes another low, odd noise, and he raises his hand to Keith’s face. Keith goes still. Shiro’s fingers are cool against his chin, and his thumb strokes along the edge of Keith’s scar, following the line of it. Keith goes hot and cold at once. 

Shiro strokes once, twice, his eyes hazy like he’s trying to remember something. It doesn’t even seem like he realizes what he’s doing, but Keith feels totally stricken, completely transfixed by the strange sensation of Shiro’s thumb finding the edge of the scar and tracing it. 

“Shiro,” he manages and winces at how his voice sounds: too high, too breathless.

Shiro sighs, and his eyes slide close. 

“I missed you,” he says, low and drowsy. His arm starts to droop. 

Keith wraps his hand around Shiro’s wrist and squeezes. Shiro’s steady pulse beats against his fingertips. It feels like a promise. 

“I missed you, too,” he says quietly, and he hates that he can count the missing in years. Shiro’s mouth twitches into a slight smile, and some of the pain leaches from his face. 

Keith squeezes Shiro’s wrist again, and then, carefully, he lets go of Shiro’s hand and lets him go back to his sleep. 

**

A day later, they stop on a planet with a lavender sky to stretch their legs and restock. Shiro’s awake again and a little more cogent. He walks out of the Black Lion unsteadily but under his own power, though it’s all Keith can do to not pull Shiro’s arm over his shoulders and carry him. He settles for trailing after Shiro awkwardly, hyper-alert to any threat. 

Cosmo yelps happily when he sees Keith and comes bolting out of the Yellow Lion, nearly knocking Hunk over in the process. 

Keith smiles and kneels to meet him. He rubs Cosmo’s muzzle affectionately and hangs back as the others swarm Shiro with hugs and questions. He wants to join, but if everyone is with Shiro, then no one’s hanging back to keep him safe. Keith scans for threats, but sees nothing but the waving, pale grass, and, distantly, the silver gleam of water and the low, dark shapes of mountains. 

Krolia comes to stand beside him. 

“This is the real one?” she asks, low enough that only Keith can hear. 

“Yes,” says Keith. 

She smiles at him, small and enigmatic. Even after two years, he’s not able to read her as well as he’d like. 

“Then I should introduce myself again,” she says and strides over. 

Keith watches the interaction - Shiro’s slight look of surprise, his glance flicking to Keith, and then the broad, bright smile. There’s true joy in his face as he shakes Krolia’s hand. Keith guesses he doesn’t remember meeting her at all. He wonders if Shiro’s retained any of his body’s memories. There’s not really a good way to ask. 

The group breaks apart soon after that. Hunk, Lance, and Pidge with Krolia to find supplies, while Romelle and Coran and Allura break into a group of their own to discuss… Altea, probably, Keith doesn’t pay too much attention. He’s too focused on Shiro. 

There’s a large tree in the field, with a far-reaching spread of limbs and dense clusters of pale yellow leaves. The shade beneath it is cool and sweet-smelling. Shiro settles against the tree’s wife trunk, his head tilted back and his eyes closed. A small, content smile plays at his lips. 

Keith trails after him. He wants to offer - offer what? His lap for Shiro to put his head on? He flushes at the thought.

Shiro pats the ground beside him.

“You should sit,” he says, eyes still closed. 

Keith sits. He leaves a few inches between them even if really does just want Shiro to rest against him. He studies Shiro. It feels like it should be strange to see him like this: white-haired and weak, unbalanced by the loss of his arm. It definitely doesn’t match the early memories he has of Shiro, the Shiro he sees when he closes his eyes. 

But it doesn’t feel strange at all. He just feels happy to have Shiro with him. 

Shiro’s hand rests in the grass, and Keith watches in fascination as Shiro digs his fingers into the rich, dark soil. There’s nothing inherently fascinating about it, except that it’s Shiro doing it, Shiro next to him, Shiro breathing and living and here. 

“It’s nice to be able to feel things again,” says Shiro after a moment. “I’d forgotten… I forgot a lot of things.” 

“Like what?” asks Keith. He leans in, just enough that their shoulders touch. It instantly makes him feel calmer, more centered. 

Shiro twists his hand in the grass and lifts it, then flattens his palm. They both watch as the breeze takes it, scattering the torn blades. 

“Just what it was like to be in a body, I guess,” says Shiro. 

He turns his head to look at Keith, and Keith looks back. Their faces are inches away. Shiro’s eyes are soft and luminous and kind. He smiles softly, and Keith finds himself staring at his mouth. He flushes. 

“I’m glad it was you piloting the Black Lion, Keith,” says Shiro. His voice is low, quiet. “It made it easier to hold on.” 

Keith’s mouth is totally dry. 

“Oh,” he says, mind completely, stupidly blank. 

Shiro just smiles a little wider and then he shifts and rests his head on Keith’s shoulder.

He falls asleep like that. 

**

The others show back up with several armfuls of food and a passel of locals. Keith tenses immediately at the sight of the strangers, and his hand goes to his knife. He starts to stand, ready to put himself between the aliens and Shiro.

Shiro stops him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s all right, Keith,” he says with gentle humor. “I don’t think they’re about to launch themselves at me.”

Keith blushes, embarrassed that Shiro saw through him so easily.

The locals are indeed friendly. They have smooth, pale green skin and large liquid-black eyes. They’re vegetarian, explains Hunk as they walk back to their village, a cluster of small buildings tucked into the curve of the river Keith spotted early. It’s a peaceful, humble place, the kind of place that doesn’t seem to have any fear of violence. 

They drink a sweet-smelling clear liquid around a communal bonfire that night. Keith sits quietly next to Shiro, watching with mild amusement as Lance and Allura fall over each other, giggling, as they try to join their hosts in a dance. 

“Do you want to head in?” asks Shiro. 

Keith nods, and they rise and walk together to the small cottage set aside for the two of them. The beds are plush and comfortable, and a clean, floral scent hangs in the air. 

It’s dark except for a single, warm light that hangs from the center of the ceiling. The sounds of revelry are distant, carried to them in fleeting patches. 

“Sorry for dragging you away,” says Shiro. 

“You didn’t,” says Keith with a shrug, as if there were anywhere else he would rather be than at Shiro’s side. 

“I think I’m just still recovering,” says Shiro, as if he needed to offer an excuse. 

“You should rest,” says Keith. He half-wants to push their beds closer together. In the cramped quarters of the Black Lion, he’s gotten used to have Shiro always within arm’s reach. 

Shiro just nods. His back is turned to Keith as he prepares for bed, and then he says, his voice odd and thoughtful, “I haven’t thanked you for saving me. Again.” 

“You don’t need to,” says Keith, startled. That much should be obvious. 

Shiro nods again. He turns, and his expression catches Keith off-guard. It’s open and vulnerable in a way Shiro almost never is. 

“How many times are you going to have to save me before this is over?” he asks.

Keith frowns. “You’ve asked me that before.” 

“Have I?” Shiro smiles, small and a little desperate, a little too eager to laugh. “I guess I don’t remember.” 

“Not you,” says Keith, correcting himself. “The other - the you that wasn’t you.” 

“What did you say?” 

“As many times as it takes.” 

“Keith…”

“You’d do the same for me. You have done the same for me.”

“I think you’ve more than paid me back by now,” says Shiro. 

“It’s not about paying you back,” says Keith slowly. 

He’s starting to think that’s what love is: a ceaseless pouring out. As much as he gives to Shiro and for Shiro, there’s still more, and the giving is what creates it. 

He knows how it must look to some people: someone was kind to him once, and now he’d die for that person. But that’s not it. Shiro was more than kind. Shiro was constant. It’s not that Keith feels the need to pay back, like for like, not as if there’s some point they could reach where they even out what they owe to each other and could walk away. It’s not obligation that holds them together. 

It’s just love. 

Keith crosses the short distance to Shiro and hugs him. He’s not sure how to put any of that into words. Shiro takes a deep, shuddering breath and his arm comes around, clutches at Keith’s back and pulls him tight against Shiro’s chest. Keith presses his face into Shiro’s shoulder and just holds him, for longer than he’s ever let himself hold Shiro before.

When they finally pull apart and finish getting ready for bed, they don’t speak, but, through some impossible-to-understand understanding, lie down in the same bed. 

It’s not a very large bed, but they manage. 

**

They leave the next morning, well-rested and well-fed, for the most part, though both Allura and Lance move slowly. They’ve been traveling for a couple varga when Pidge breaks the silence. 

“So I’ve finally finished my calculations,” she says, “on how long it’s going to take us to get to Earth, and, uh… It’s a long time, guys.” 

“How long, Pidge?” asks Keith warily. 

Pidge sighs. “It’s going to take us 10,872 decapheebs, twelve quintents, and six vargas to make it back to Earth. Give or take about twelve vargas. I’ve run the model a few times now, and it’s the same result every time.” 

A long silence greets Pidge’s announcement. 

“I didn’t think you humans lived that long,” breaks in Coran’s voice uncertainly. 

“We don’t,” snaps Lance, voicing the same frustration Keith feels. 

“Oh man,” say Hunk. “By the time we make it back to Earth… that’s going to be enough time for a whole new Zarkon to rise up and conquer the universe. A Zarkon 2.0!” 

“Allura?” says Keith. He forces himself to focus on staying calm and productive. “Is there some way you can speed things up?” 

“I’m afraid not, Keith,” says Allura. “Without the Castle of Lions…” 

“Voltron can help,” says Shiro suddenly, quiet enough that only Keith can hear it. 

Keith flicks his transmitter off and wheels around to face him. 

“What?” he says. 

Shiro has his head cocked, a distant look in his eyes. 

“Voltron can help,” he repeats. “Get the team to form Voltron.” 

Keith doesn’t hesitate. Maybe he should, given everything that’s happened. But it’s impossible for him not to listen to Shiro, and no one’s offered a better suggestion so far. 

He turns his transmitter back on. 

“Shiro - ” he starts to say, and then he catches Shiro shake his head in the corner of his vision. He frowns, and then realizes what it means. Shiro wants Keith to be the leader this time. Keith has to be the one the others look to. He swallows hard and nods. 

“I think we should try forming Voltron,” he says firmly. “There might be powers we haven’t discovered yet.” 

There’s a general murmur of assent, and they form Voltron quickly. Keith lets himself sink for a second into that familiar intimacy with the others, lets their surface impressions slipstream by him. And suddenly he realizes he can feel _Shiro_ , too, not as a part of the Black Lion, but a part of Voltron generally. He’s not as distinct as the others, but he’s there, and Keith feels lighter, happier, more assured because of it. 

“Focus on home,” says Shiro, his voice even and deep. It seems to come from right next to Keith and from within his mind all at once. “Picture Earth. Picture the people you love.” 

“Ah,” says Allura timidly. “I will, but… could someone tell me what Earth is like?” 

“It’s the _best_ ,” enthuses Lance immediately. “It’s so - it’s so different everywhere you go. Where I’m from, Cuba, it’s really colorful. The buildings, the cars, the people. There’s always music playing, and the ocean is the most perfect blue you could imagine.”

“Not as blue as where _I’m_ from,” cuts in Hulk. “There’s just ocean as far as you can see. And the island’s super green, and the food is so good. There’s like these sweet rolls my mom always made with coconut milk. And at night, there are…” 

“There’s what?” prompts Keith. 

“So many stars,” says Hunk quietly. “Huh. I never thought about it before, but I think that’s maybe what got me interested in the Garrison in the first place.” 

“We couldn’t see the stars very well where we lived before my dad started at the Garrison,” says Pidge. “We were in this huge city that was lit up all the time. Matt and I got super into underground robot fighting. Our mom found out and I thought for sure we were busted, but she ended up joining our team.”

“What about you, Keith?” asks Allura. “What’s Earth like for you?” 

“It’s, uh.” Keith glances at Shiro. He knows he shouldn’t blurt out that the best part of Earth is mainly just _Shiro_. He tries to think of something else. 

Then, Shiro puts his hand on Keith’s shoulder and leans over to be closer the comm. Keith’s heart seizes a bit at the proximity. 

“Keith and I used to go racing in the canyons in the desert all the time,” he says. 

His face is too close for Keith to turn and see his expression, but Shiro’s voice is fond. Keith feels an answering fondness in his chest. They raced no matter the weather, under the night sky or in the full heat of day, daring each other to more challenging stunts. It was the only time Keith ever saw Shiro really relax or really laugh. The only time Shiro wasn’t the perfect Garrison posterboy, but just a kid like Keith. 

It’s been a long time since he’s seen that Shiro. 

He raises his hand and rests it gently on Shiro’s. Shiro’s breath seems to catch. Keith doesn’t know what that means, but he presses down, gently squeezes Shiro’s hand. 

“The desert’s really quiet,” he says, because he knows everyone is still waiting for him to say something. “It’s, uh, nice. You can hear yourself think.”

It’s where he first heard one of the Lions, speaking a lifeline into the drowning ocean of his grief. 

“And the people of Earth are braver than other people in the universe,” says Krolia, her voice low and warm. 

Allura laughs, delighted. “That much I know, at least,” she says. Then, “Thank you everybody. I think I have it, and I can’t wait to see your homes.” 

There’s a long silence. Keith closes his eyes. He pictures the desert, and his house, and his father. He pictures Shiro, the first time he ever saw him, smiling and proud in his Garrison uniform. After the Kerberos mission, he had believed there wasn’t anything left for him on Earth, nothing worth loving, nothing worth staying for. 

But he knows now that’s not true. The desert is there, Pidge’s father is there, and her mother, and Lance’s family, and Hunk’s - all people he hasn’t met, but all people worth saving and coming back for, people who are loved by the people he’s come to love. 

It’s strange. This far away, with Shiro by his side, and his mother nearby, he’s finally able to think of Earth and think, _home_. 

A tunnel seems to open in his mind. From the gasp of the others, he knows the others see it, too. Shiro digs his fingers into Keith’s shoulder, and Keith presses down harder. He only realizes then that he never stopped holding Shiro’s hand. 

Voltron’s sucked forward, like they’ve entered the gravitational field of some immense object. They rocket through space and the stars around them streak to long lines of white, and then the lines of white expand and fill their vision, so they’re surrounded completely by a field of pure and glowing white. Keith tries to shut his eyes, but they’re already close, and the light presses down, hard and obliterating.

Shiro yells in pain. His hand slips from Keith’s shoulder. 

He collapses. 

“Stop!” screams Keith, opening his eyes. “Stop!” 

The light breaks apart in wide cracks of black. Voltron shudders and slows, turns two strange, heavy somersaults and then drifts to a halt. Keith’s already out of his chair. He kneels beside Shiro, who, at least, is conscious. His eyes are half-open and dazed. 

“Shiro! Shiro, are you okay?” he asks, as similar questions from the others spit out from the comm. 

Keith ignores them. He helps Shiro into sitting position and runs his hands frantically over Shiro’s body, desperate to make sure he’s fine. 

“I’m okay,” says Shiro slowly. His eyes start to focus. He puts his hand gently on Keith’s chest, stilling him. 

“Really,” he adds. “Keith, look at me.” 

“I am,” says Keith, frustrated, but he makes himself meet Shiro’s eyes. Shiro looks back at him with a familiar kind firmness. He’s going to be stubborn about this, thinks Keith, irritated. 

“I’m going to be fine,” says Shiro. “I know my limits, Keith.” 

Keith shakes his head. “We’re not doing it again! We’ll figure out another way back!” 

“It’s the only way we can get home,” says Shiro calmly. “I’ll just need to rest in between.” 

“You keep - ” Keith catches himself in time to realize he’s still transmitting. That the others can hear every word he and Shiro are saying. He switches it off, and then turns back to Shiro, who’s still staring firmly, patiently, stubbornly back at him. Keith feels suddenly furious. This is nowhere on the same level as Keith getting into fights at the Garrison or being too impulsive while flying. 

“You keep dying,” says Keith, overwhelmed by his anger and his fear. He feels almost as bad as he did after his father’s death, after the Kerberos mission. He can’t keep losing people. He can’t keep losing _Shiro_. 

“Keith,” says Shiro calmly. He raises his hand to rest it on Keith’s shoulder. Keith jerks away. 

“I’m not going to let you kill yourself over this!” 

There’s a long, cold pause. Shiro’s expression goes flat. Keith’s seen that expression a couple times, directed at Garrison higher ups Shiro disagreed with and was trying to keep his cool around, mainly. But he’s never seen it directed at him. He knows he’s gone too far, but he can’t quite bring himself to to take it back.

“Maybe I should travel with Pidge for awhile,” says Shiro eventually. 

Keith can’t look at him. 

“Maybe you should,” he says.

**

The transfer goes smoothly. Krolia and Cosmo have been riding with Pidge since the morning, and Keith’s glad that Shiro had the foresight to switch to the Green Lion. He doesn’t think he could handle Romelle or Coran as a passenger right now. 

“The good news,” says Pidge, after they’ve completed the swap, “is now we’re only 9,236 decapheebs away from home.” 

“Great,” snaps Keith, and then he switches his comms off again and hunches down. Cosmo laps at his fingers, eager for attention, and Keith forces himself to give it. He runs his hand down the wolf’s head and spine, scritches him behind the ear. He feels his anger start to drift away from him, leaving behind only the cold and anxious fear. 

“So your Shiro,” says Krolia, after a few minutes have passed. 

“He’s not my Shiro.” 

“I don’t know who else he would belong to.”

Keith turns his chair to glare at her, and she just shrugs at him, expression cool and unamused. He wonders, still, what it would have been like to grow up with her present. He doesn’t think she would have let him get away with half the stuff Dad did.

“What about Shiro?” he says grudgingly. 

“He injured himself during the jump earlier,” she says.

Keith blows out in irritation. “Not exactly. I think he just… over-exerted himself.” 

He scrubs at his face and feels some more of the tension leave his neck and shoulders. 

“He probably does just need to rest,” he adds. It’s not that he suddenly believes that, but he’s not about to air his and Shiro’s argument to anyone, even his mom. 

Krolia gives him a look that’s too perceptive for comfort. He looks away, back out at the stars rocketing by them.

“It’s hard to love someone who loves others more than they love themselves,” says Krolia softly. 

Keith wants to protest - it’s not hard to love Shiro. It’s the easiest thing in the world. But he knows what Krolia means. It’s the pain that’s hard, and the fear of the pain. 

“So what do you do?” he asks, voice cracking. 

Krolia comes to him and wraps her arms around his shoulders. She rests her chin on top of his head. 

“I don’t know,” she says sadly. “I don’t think anyone does. You just have to trust them and love them while you can.” 

**

They don’t find a planet to land on by the time their internal clocks all tell them it’s night. Keith’s not sleepy, but he recognizes his body is tired, so he makes himself lie down. It’s hard to fall asleep without Shiro in the room with him. He twists and turns, agitated, and Cosmo whines several times as Keith accidentally knees him. 

Eventually, though, he drifts off. 

And he dreams, that night, of the starscape he found Shiro in. 

He walks, for a long time, alone, beneath the unnerving beauty of the stars. This must have been what it was like for Shiro, he thinks, with terrible sadness. He can’t imagine being so close to his friends but unable to help in anyway. 

Then he sees him, standing far away across the plain. His back is to Keith. He seems to be looking up. 

“Shiro!” shouts Keith, and he bolts forward. 

Shiro turns, and his face lights up from fear to joy. Did he think he was trapped here again? Keith runs towards him, too slow at first, like running in a dream, and then suddenly he’s there, beside Shiro. 

“What are we doing here?” he asks.

Somehow, he knows it’s more than a dream. He knows he’s talking to the real Shiro. That this isn’t just a dream. 

“I don’t know,” says Shiro. “I think…” He hesitates. “We must both have access to this space now.” He smiles sheepishly. “And I was thinking about you. So maybe that had something to do with it.”

“I was thinking about you, too,” admits Keith. His chest feels warm with pleasure. Somehow, all his anger and fear and irritation have disappeared. He’s just happy to be beside Shiro. 

“Do you think we’ll be able to do this even when we’re not both in one of the Lions?” he asks.

He expects Shiro to say he’s not sure or he hopes so or that they should try to find out. But instead, Shiro tilts his head, as if he’s listening. Keith watches in confusion for a second and then realizes he can listen to. He listens. He waits. And from deep inside him, comes the voice he’s come to associate with the Black Lion: resonant and assured, like the last lingering notes of a symphony.

Yes, says the voice, if you focus. 

Shiro smiles.

“There you go,” he says, turning to look at Keith. “You’re going to get sick of me.”

Keith laughs loudly at that.

“Never,” says Keith, beaming. 

Shiro just looks at him. Keith’s smile fades. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

“I don’t know,” admits Shiro. He rubs at his face.“A lot’s happened, Keith. I think I’m still trying to process it all.”

Keith nods. He leans against Shiro’s side, offering his silent support and comfort. He can’t overreact every time Shiro shows weakness, he realizes. It’ll only make Shiro hide it. 

“I’m sorry about what I said earlier,” he says honestly. “It’s your decision to make. And I - I trust you.” 

Shiro seems to breathe out in relief. “Thank you,” he says simply.

“You taught me that,” says Keith. “That if I’m going to be a good leader, I have to trust the people on my team. I just needed… a reminder.”

Love and leadership both require trust, he thinks. 

Shiro smiles softly. “I get why you were scared,” he says. “I promise I’m not doing this just to prove something to myself.” 

Keith nods. He hadn’t articulated his worry that way, but once Shiro says it, he realizes that was a piece of his fear, and it comforts him to know Shiro understands that. 

“Thanks,” he says. He smiles ruefully. “I guess now I know how you’ve felt all these years.”

Shiro laughs and ducks his head, acknowledging the point. 

“I’m so proud of you, Keith,” he says. He looks at Keith, soft and wistful, until Keith’s cheeks burn, and he has to look away. 

He wakes up, sometime later, to Cosmo’s snores and Krolia’s quiet, even breathing. He just lies there, smiling stupidly up at nothing. His happiness feels too big to hold. He and Shiro will never be apart again.

**

They’re able to jump again when they wake up, Shiro guiding them from the Green Lion this time. 

They jump even further, and Keith grinds his teeth so hard his jaw hurts when he hears Shiro’s shout of pain. 

“He’s fine!” calls Pidge over the comms, a moment later. “He’s just lying down now!”

Keith presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. Krolia pats his shoulder sympathetically. 

“Good,” he says, when he’s finally sure he’s in control of himself. “Now let’s see if we can find somewhere to land. 

Somewhere to land ends up storm-lashed city made all of black, volcanic glass. They’re begrudgingly given shelter. It’s comfortable enough, but they’re all forced to stay in the same, large room, treated more like prisoners than guests. 

Keith stares out the window and watches the rain beat furiously against it. It’s impossible to see anything beyond the constant ripple of gray water and grayer light.

“What about a little Monsters and Mana to pass the time?” says Coran, twirling his mustache. 

“Heck yes!” says Hunk, and Pidge, Allura, and Lance all cheer, too. 

“What’s that?” asks Romelle. 

Coran explains, and Keith quickly loses interest. But Shiro seems engaged, and joins the others at the table. Keith frowns, suddenly uncertain. 

He expects Krolia to be unimpressed, at least, but instead, she’s fascinated. Romelle is, too, and after a couple moments of conversation and consulting Coran’s guidebook, they announce to the table that they’re both playing monks. 

“And we’re sisters,” adds Romelle, with relish. Keith glowers at Krolia, betrayed. 

“Fine,” he snaps. “I’ll play, too.” 

He walks to the table and stares at Lance until Lance moves over. Then he sits down beside Shiro. 

“I didn’t want to sit there anyway,” says Lance sulkily. Keith ignores him. 

“What are you playing?” he asks Shiro in undertone. 

Shiro pauses thoughtfully, looking over the class options. 

“I think I’ll play a paladin,” he says.

The others groan. 

“I thought that was just - ” Hunk cuts himself off abruptly. 

Shiro frowns at him. “You thought what?” 

“Nothing,” says Hunk, a little too frantically. He ducks his head beneath the heat of Pidge’s glare. “I didn’t think anything. In fact, I’m never thinking!” 

“I played this before,” says Shiro slowly. 

There’s a guilty silence at the table. 

“Well, yeah,” says Lance, when it becomes obvious no one else will speak. “But you had fun though?” 

Shiro’s still quiet. His fingers rest on the illustration of a paladin included in the guide. Keith looks down at it. It’s a handsome, squared jawed man, dressed in golden plate armor and a long, flowing blue cloak, gazing heroically outwards. The clothes and the hair are wrong, but otherwise, it could almost be a dead ringer for one of the recruitment posters for the Garrison that used Shiro’s photo. 

Keith rests his hand on Shiro’s knee beneath the table, where no one can see him, and presses down lightly. Shiro doesn’t show a reaction on his face, but he presses his knee up a bit, acknowledgement and thanks. 

“Keith?” asks Coran. “What are you going to play?”

“I’ll be a paladin, too,” says Keith immediately, loyally. 

The whole table - except for Shiro - groans. 

“Well, what else could I be?” snaps Keith. 

“We don’t have a dedicated healer,” says Pidge. “You could be a cleric.” 

“I - fine,” he says grudgingly. It’s not worth arguing about, even if being a cleric sounds really boring. If that’s what the team needs, he’ll do it. 

It ends up not being as bad as he’d feared, though Shiro almost dies. He almost dies _several times_. But each time, Keith’s got a… spell or whatever that can heal him. 

“Have you healed anyone else this entire game?” asks Lance, towards the end, after Keith’s healed Shiro and helped him back to his feet after he took an eighty foot drop from a tree. 

(“Why’d he even climb the tree in the first place?” whispers Hunk. 

“ _Paladins_ ,” sighs Pidge.)

Keith shrugs. “No one else has needed it.” 

“Sorry,” says Shiro, with an impish grin, and then he starts to laugh - giggle, really. It’s a loud, long, joyful, infectious enough to make everyone laugh with him. Keith finds himself laughing, too. 

It’s a dumb game, but Keith’ll play it forever if it means seeing Shiro laugh again.

**

When they leave the next morning, Shiro joins Keith in the Black Lion, and when they jump, they jump even further than before, eating up a vast expanse of space. 

Shiro looks pale at the end, but he doesn’t collapse and he even smiles.

They dream, again, that night, of the starscape. They don’t say anything. They just sit beneath the stars, together. 

**

They stop next for a few days on a red desert moon, in a town carved straight into the walls of a cliff. He and Shiro spend the first evening sitting on a balcony of stone and looking across the flat, parched earth and watching dust devils rip across the horizon. It’s enough like home to make Keith’s chest ache. He never thought he’d miss his own desert so much.

The sunset is spectacular, brilliant shades of orange and purple and pink that swallow the sky. He and Shiro say nothing through it, content always with each other, even in silence. They watch as the sky darken and stars appear until eventually the velvet black of night, pierced by a million points of light, fills their view.

“It’s still beautiful,” says Shiro softly, gazing up at the stars. “No matter where in the universe I see it, there’s nothing better than the night sky.”

Keith doesn’t say anything. It’s strange that Shiro can still love the night sky, for all the pain and sorrow the stars have brought him. To go into space had been Shiro’s dream for longer than Keith has known him. Someone might think it speaks to some deep, inner masochism. But Keith’s doesn’t think that. It’s just that Shiro has an unshakable core of hope. It’s part of why Keith loves him.

“Are you looking forward to going back?” Keith asks. Shiro’s been gone so long, and his last trip to Earth had been so short, so frantic, Keith can barely count it. 

Shiro’s quiet. Keith lets him think. 

“It’ll be nice to see some of my old colleagues,” he says finally. 

Keith draws his knees to his chest. “Pidge’s dad will be there.” 

Shiro’s whole expression lights up. “Really?” he says. “You mean - he’s alive?” He pauses, blinks rapidly, and then takes a sharp breath. “Oh. I think - I think I remember now.” 

He grins hugely. 

“Wow. That’s great news.” 

Keith beams at him, but he’s sad, too, that there are so few people left on Earth for Shiro to care about. Shiro was an orphan, too. It was one of the first things they’d bonded over, and, for all Shiro’s talent, kindness, and patience, he’d never seemed to have many friends. 

“They’re jealous of you,” Keith had told him flatly once, back on Earth. 

“They’re not jealous,” Shiro had replied, because he was incapable of believing, let alone saying, a negative word about anyone. But Keith had seen how the other pilots who had started at the same time as Shiro looked at him; he’d heard how they talked about him. They _were_ jealous. Shiro was better than them, and he wasn’t even a jerk so they could hate him over it. 

“It’s just hard,” said Shiro, “maintaining friendships with people you outrank.” 

“I’m still your friend though, right?” Keith had asked, anxiety prickling beneath his skin, in his throat. 

Shiro smiled. “I certainly hope so.” 

And they hadn’t talked about it again. 

But Keith realizes now that Shiro had to live that loneliness again as the leader of the Paladins, and he hates himself for allowing it. If Shiro weren’t always the leader, if the other Paladins had been his friends, maybe they would have realized something was wrong with the other-Shiro sooner. 

If Keith had stayed, maybe he would realized sooner. 

But he had wanted, so desperately, for Shiro to be fine, had bowed to the fact that Shiro was more experienced than him and was obviously the better leader. It had been easier to cede the Black Lion and all it stood for to Shiro. 

He’s going to have to live with that guilt. 

“We won’t stay long,” he says. He gestures out at the sky. “There’s a whole universe for us to explore after all this is over.” 

“I’m looking forward to exploring it together,” says Shiro, and he smiles so sweetly it makes Keith’s heart ache. 

**

The next time they jump, they land in nothingness. The only stars are tiny pinpricks of light. A vast and emptying echoness seems to surround them. It’s strange. Keith’s gotten so used to how _full_ space is: full of people and danger and strange, wondrous creatures, of planets and objects beyond his wildest imaginings. He’d forgotten how quiet it was, too. 

The others seem similarly discomfited. Hunk and Lance chatter over the comms, as if they’re trying to make up for the lack of anything with meaningless talk. But they lapse quickly into silence themselves. 

“We’re decapheebs from the closest system,” says Pidge, after they’ve traveled like that for some time. “But… we’re getting close to home, guys.” 

“Oh, yeah,” says Lance. “It’s definitely feeling really homey right now. When are we going to be able to jump again?”

“When Shiro’s ready,” says Keith, and he’s proud of how even he’s able to keep his voice. 

Shiro snorts quietly. Keith glances back at him. Shiro’s seated on his bed, his eyes closed and head tilted back. He’s breathing hard. Keith takes in his profile: the straight lines of his nose and jaw, the curve of his throat, and he feels a familiar, burst of need in his gut.

“Well, it’s true,” he says waspishly. He makes sure to stop transmitting first. 

“I don’t think it’ll be too long,” says Shiro. “I’m getting more comfortable in this body.”

Keith frowns, glad Shiro has his eyes closed. He hopes that means there’ll be a day when Shiro starts to think of it as _his_ body, and not just view himself as an unwelcome houseguest. 

“That’s good,” he says encouragingly. 

Shiro hums, noncommittal. 

“I’m starting to remember more, too,” he says. 

“Remember what?” 

“What happened in this body.” 

“Oh,” says Keith. 

He gets up from the pilot’s chair and moves to stand between Shiro’s legs. He rests his hands on his shoulders. 

“Is that good?” he asks. 

“I don’t know,” says Shiro, still with his eyes closed. “I guess I’m glad to know. But…” 

“But?” 

Shiro’s eyes open. He looks up at Keith. 

“Some of them aren’t very good memories,” he says. 

He reaches up and slides his hand under Keith’s chin. Keith’s chest constricts, and his brain goes staticky. 

“I gave this to you,” says Shiro, low and sad. His thumb trace the shape of Keith’s scar. Keith shivers. It’s exactly like when Shiro first woke up, except Shiro is fully conscious now, and Keith bears the full, overwhelming force of his attention. 

“No,” he protests, mouth dry. “It wasn’t you.”

Shiro shakes his head. 

“He was me… Or I was him. Everything he did - it’s what I would have done. It’s exactly what I would have done. It feels like I did it. So how can I know that I wouldn’t…” Shiro trails off. He pulls his hand away and gestures miserably at Keith’s face, at the scar. 

“How do I know that wasn’t _me_ , too?” 

“It’s not,” says Keith firmly. “It wasn’t. It was Haggar.” 

“But how do I know whatever they did to him, they didn’t do to me?”

“Allura said it’s just you now,” insists Keith. “And she and Pidge and Hunk can make you a new arm when you get back on Earth, so you won’t have to worry about that either.”

Shiro doesn’t say anything. He bows his head and covers his face. Keith looks at him and hurts, because he knows there’s nothing he can do to fix this, to fix Shiro’s fear of himself, his fear of being monstrous, of being, deep down, insufficient. All he can do is be patient, is keep pouring his love into him, the same way Shiro does for him.

He crouches down, his hand braced on Shiro’s shoulder. Their faces are close, but Shiro keeps his turned down. 

“You’ll always be a hero,” says Keith slowly, fumbling for the words. He knows, already, that’s not enough. It’s not just that Shiro needs to recognize his own heroism. It’s that he needs to see his value beyond that; he needs to see himself the way Keith has learned to. Keith loves not just the hero, but the man: vulnerable, hurting, silly, stubborn, kind. 

“And you’re always going to be my friend,” he adds. “No matter what happens, we’ll have each other’s back. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

“Together,” repeats Shiro. 

“No matter what,” says Keith again, fierce and urgent. He has to make Shiro understand. 

Shiro’s quiet again, and when he speaks, it takes Keith a second to realize what he’s talking about. 

“On the platform, when we were fighting - when you and the clone were fighting…You could have saved yourself.”

“Probably,” admits Keith warily. He’s not sure where this is going, but he doesn’t think he’ll like it. 

“But you didn’t even try.”

“No.”

Shiro groans. 

“Keith, you can’t just throw your life away like that. You have a responsibility to Voltron, to this team.” 

Keith bites the inside of his cheek. The truth is, he really believes Voltron could find a way forward without him, and he knows he couldn’t keep going without Shiro. 

“I was going to save you, or I wasn’t coming back,” he says brokenly, honestly. 

“Keith,” protests Shiro, but Keith just stares defiantly back. “You’re worth so much more than that.” 

“It’s not about me,” says Keith. “It’s not - I didn’t do it because I hate myself Shiro. I did it because of you. It’s always been because of you.” 

Shiro just looks at him, and Keith feels his face heat red. He doesn’t want Shiro to think he’s desperate or pathetic. But maybe they’re beyond that now. Keith’s walked into death alone and brought Shiro back alive. 

“He wanted you to live,” says Shiro. He pushes his hand through his hair. His eyes are wild, lit by the same desperation Keith feels. He won’t look at Keith. “The clone… The way he felt about you…”

“How did he feel about me?” 

Shiro meets his eyes, but barely, like it hurts him to look at Keith. 

“‘The same way I feel about you,” he says helplessly. 

Keith’s breath catches.

“I love you,” he says, the words bursting out of him before he can stop himself. He’s not even sure he wants to stop himself. He knows Shiro loves him, too, and that’s enough. Whatever shape that love takes is enough. It makes Keith dizzy sometimes to think how lucky he is that Shiro loves him at all.

“I know,” says Shiro with another miserable laugh. “I - I remember that part. But you. I.”

He flails for words uncharacteristically, and Keith’s numb with shock at the realization he’s done that. He’s the one who’s unmoored him. 

And then he realizes why. He used the word brother. But there isn’t a word that means anchor and family and guiding light. 

Keith kisses him. He pours into it all his reckless, impossible devotion, every instant he’s looked at Shiro and loved him, and he doesn’t know when that love slipped - imperceptibly, completely - from friendship and admiration into this, this ever-present ache and need. It doesn’t matter, because the totality of that love has never changed, not from the moment it first consumed him. 

And Shiro kisses back. His hand comes up to cup Keith’s cheek. Keith presses into it, eager for any and all contact. He feels Shiro gasp against his mouth. Keith presses forward more. He climbs onto Shiro’s lap, straddling him. Need picks him up by the back of the neck and shakes him. He trembles.

“Keith,” murmurs Shiro, voice low, hot, urgent. “Keith.” 

His hand moves to the back of Keith’s neck, fingers sliding through Keith’s hair, and he tugs Keith even closer. Keith groans. He’ll make Shiro love this body, because it’s the body Shiro’s in, which means it must be perfect. 

Pidge’s voice crackles excitedly over the comm. 

“Guys! _Guys!_ ”

Keith jerks away, startled as if Pidge had walked in on them. Shiro grabs his wrist, though, keeping his close. They both stare at each other, flushed, breathing raggedly, as Pidge continues to speak. 

“Do you see that star? That little yellow one? That’s our sun!”

“They’re all yellow!” shouts Lance. 

“Oh, I see it!” says Hunk excitedly. “Down in the right-hand corner? That one’s ours!” 

Shiro swallows hard, and Keith tracks the movement with his eyes. He wants to shut down all transmissions and press Shiro back against the bed. He never wants to let him go. 

“We should probably say something,” says Shiro. His voice is as raw as Keith feels, He smiles, somehow both bashful and mischievous, and it does nothing to lessen Keith’s desire. 

Keith sighs. He knows Shiro’s right. He slides out of his lap and stands. 

“Keith?” Shiro grabs his hand. 

Keith pauses and looks at him. Shiro gazes up at him with an incredibly tenderness. 

“I love you, too,” he says softly. 

Keith breathes out. He has to close his eyes to steady himself.

When he opens his eyes, Shiro’s still gazing at him. He lifts Shiro’s hand and kisses his palm. He’s no longer all Keith has, but he’s still the only thing Keith needs. Of all the miraculous things that have happened to Keith since Shiro crash landed back on Earth, this feels like the most miraculous of all: that Shiro needs him just as much, that Shiro loves him, too. That Keith is anchor and family and guiding light, too. 

There’s no response adequate to that, and there’s so much more they need to discuss. This is just another beginning, not an ending, not a culmination. The future spreads out tantalizingly before him, full of hope and love. He squeezes Shiro’s hand, kisses it once more, and returns to the pilot’s chair. 

He flicks the comms back on. 

“Everyone get ready to form Voltron,” he says. He looks at Shiro, who nods and comes to stand beside him. He places his hand on Keith’s shoulder, a comforting, familiar weight. “We’re going home.” 

He smiles at Shiro. 

“Ready?” he asks.

Shiro nods. “It’ll be good to be back.” 

Then he leans down and quickly, almost shyly, presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. It’s enough to make feel Keith dizzy. He grabs Shiro’s hand and holds tight as they prepare for the next jump. 

How lucky they’ll be, he thinks, as he squeezes Shiro’s hand, to see the blue curve of the Earth, to go home together.

**Author's Note:**

> This is, without a doubt, the sappiest thing I've ever written. Title is from the poem _[Other Lives and Dimensions and Finally a Love Poem](http://www.pa56.org/ross/hicok.htm)_ by Bob Hicok. I recommend reading it and thinking about Shiro and Keith if you're in the mood to cry. 
> 
> I literally posted this before stepping out the door to head to the airport, so apologies for any weird errors. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed.


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